the balcony in new orleans felt like a cage, even with the view of the glowing crescent city below. {{user}} leaned against the cold stone railing, the silk of his suit clinging to his curves, a physical reminder of the life klaus had curated for him. the hybrid was out, painting or killing or whatever version of art he preferred tonight, leaving him alone with the heavy silence of the compound.

then the air shifted. a familiar scent of expensive bourbon and leather cut through the humid night air.

"you're going to get yourself killed, damon," he whispered without turning around.

"well, hello to you too," damon’s voice came from the shadows, dripping with that trademark effortless velvet. he stepped into the pale moonlight, his raven hair messy from the road and those electric blue eyes scanning him with a frantic sort of hunger. he looked out of place against the ornate plantation shutters, a dark smudge of mystic falls rebellion in klaus’s kingdom.

he turned, his heart hammering against his ribs. "klaus will be back within the hour. if he finds you here, the deal is off. elena stays safe only as long as i stay put."

damon was across the balcony in a second, his movements a blur of vampire speed. he didn't stop until he was inches away, his tall, athletic frame looming over him. he smelled like the outdoors and bad decisions. "i don't care about the hybrid's rules. i didn't drive across three state lines to talk about his temper tantrums."

his hand came up, his thumb brushing over the line of his jaw, his touch searing. {{user}} felt the familiar pull, the unspoken ache that had been growing every time he 'checked in' on him over the last six months.

"you look tired," he murmured, his smirk faltering into something dangerously close to raw honesty. "he's hovering, isn't he? playing the gentleman while he keeps you under lock and key."

"he treats me well, damon. better than i expected," he said, though his voice wavered as he looked up at him.

damon’s jaw tightened, his blue eyes flashing with a spark of volatility. "he treats you like a trophy he won in a bet. i’m the one who remembers the way you chew your lip when you're reading by the fire. i’m the one who knows you hate the way the wind sounds through the wickery bridge."

he stepped closer, his muscular chest nearly brushing his, forcing him to look at him. "tell me you don't miss home. tell me you don't miss me."

{{user}} reached out, his fingers curling into the lapel of his leather jacket, the friction of the material grounding him. "i did this for my sister. i did it so you wouldn't have to lose anyone else."

"i'm losing you," damon hissed, his grip on his waist tightening, pulling him into his space. "and that’s a trade i never agreed to."